Deirdre stood at the edge of the alleyway, peering down the dark, narrow path that led to The Squatting Toad. The air here seemed heavier, carrying a faint, acrid smell of damp earth and stale alcohol. She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the strap of her pack. This wasn’t the kind of place she liked to frequent—it wasn’t the warm bustle of Horizon’s End or the clean, orderly Outfitter. No, this was the shadowy corner of The Exchange where secrets were traded for steep prices, and everyone had something to hide.
Her gaze fell on the flight of cracked stone steps leading down to the pub’s entrance. The faint glow of a wall-mounted lantern illuminated the scene just enough to pick out the round, black door, its surface weathered and warped, flanked by lead-paned windows tinged a murky green. There was no sign to mark the establishment—there didn’t need to be. The Squatting Toad wasn’t the kind of place you stumbled upon; you only came here when you had a reason.
Orsafi shifted in her pack, her nebula-like fur briefly shimmering through the opening. “Stay hidden,” Deirdre whispered, gently closing the flap. Having a carbuncle would draw exactly the wrong kind of attention in a place like this
She inhaled deeply, the damp chill of the air prickling her skin, and started down the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, the faint murmur of voices and clinking glasses growing louder with every descent. The rough-hewn walls of the stairwell seemed to close in around her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many desperate deals and broken promises had passed through this threshold.
At the bottom, she hesitated once more, her hand hovering near the door’s iron handle. This is a bad idea, she thought. The warning Omylia had given her still rang in her ears: Hoch was trouble, a known schemer who always left people with less than they bargained for. But what choice did she have? Fennor’s contract was too important to fail, and Hoch had the one thing she needed—a Domain Key to the creatures and plants she was tasked with gathering.
With a final, steadying breath, she pushed the door open.
The door creaked on its hinges, releasing a wave of warm, oppressive air that smelled of pipe smoke, spilled ale, and something faintly sour. The pub was dimly lit, with a handful of flickering lanterns casting weak pools of light across the room. Shadows clung to the walls, and the low hum of voices mixed with the occasional clatter of tankards.
The patrons were as rough as the setting. Groups of shady-looking figures huddled over their drinks, their faces partially obscured by the smoky haze. A hulking man with a scarred face glared at her briefly before returning to his whispered conversation, while a pair of hooded figures exchanged something small and glittering under the table. This wasn’t just a drinking hole—it was a den of deals and secrets, and her presence hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Deirdre swallowed hard, forcing herself to step inside. The weight of eyes on her was almost physical, her boots sticking slightly to the sticky wooden floor as she made her way further in. The bartender, a broad, grizzled man with a perpetual scowl, barely glanced her way before resuming his task of polishing a chipped mug.
She scanned the room, her heart thumping as she looked for Hoch. He wasn’t hard to find. At the back of the room, tucked into a shadowy booth, sat a figure cloaked in black. His hood was pulled low, but the gleam of a single eye caught the light—a predatory glint that seemed to pierce through the smoke-filled air.
“There he is.” Her stomach twisted as she approached, every instinct telling her to turn around and leave. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to finish this contract and keep her standing in the Guild. She clenched her jaw and pressed on, her footsteps deliberately even as she stopped in front of his table.
"Hoch?" she said, keeping her voice steady.
The man looked up, his face partially obscured by shadow. What she could see was unsettling—a ragged scar ran from his brow to his cheek, the mangled flesh hidden beneath a patch that only seemed to draw attention to the injury. He grinned, revealing a set of uneven teeth that matched the oily tone of his voice.
"Well. What brings you to my little corner?" he said, his voice as oily as his demeanor.
Deirdre hesitated for a heartbeat, her eyes scanning Hoch's shadowed face. The patch over his damaged eye and the jagged scar peeking out beneath it told a story she wasn't eager to learn. But it was his grin that unsettled her most—a predator's smile, sharp and calculating, revealing uneven teeth as he savored the moment, as if he already knew what she was going to say.
“Yeah,” she said finally, keeping her voice calm. “I hear you’re the man to talk to about Domain Keys.”
Hoch’s grin widened, and he gestured to the seat across from him with a flourish of his hand. “That depends. Lots of people come in here looking for Keys. What makes your business worth my time?”
Deirdre eased into the booth, her back straight, her pack resting firmly on her lap. She wasn’t about to get comfortable in a place like this. “I’m looking for something specific. A Domain with creatures and plants I need to fulfill a contract.” She paused, her voice cooling. “Word is, you might have what I’m looking for.”
Hoch leaned back, the faint light catching the patch over his eye. He drummed his fingers on the table, his nails short but slightly jagged, like someone who gnawed at them out of habit. “Word travels fast in this place. You got a name to go with that face?”
“Deirdre,” she said simply, unwilling to offer more than she had to.
“Deirdre,” Hoch repeated, tasting the name like a wine he wasn’t quite sure he liked. “Well, Deirdre, I might have what you’re after. But it’s going to cost you.”
She arched an eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest. "Look, if you've got the Key, let's talk price."
Hoch chuckled, the sound low and dry. "Slow down, sweetheart. Keys don't come cheap, and I don't hand them over to just anyone with coin. They’re precious, and the Domains they open are dangerous. What exactly are you after? If you want me to figure out if I’ve got a Key that fits, I need details.”
Deirdre hesitated, her gaze narrowing slightly as she weighed how much to reveal. Hoch was slippery, but if she wanted his help, she’d have to give him something to work with. “Fine,” she said, her voice firm but guarded. “I’m looking for a Domain with wetlands—swamps or fens, specifically. It needs to support magical flora and fauna. I need plants that thrive in humidity and saturated magical environments, and slimes—rare ones, not the common types.”
Hoch tilted his head slightly, his good eye gleaming with interest. “Slimes, huh? Not many Collectors bother with those. They’re tricky, messy, and not exactly glamorous. What’s so special about these ones?”
She leaned forward slightly, her tone cooling. “That’s my business, not yours. You asked for details, now you’ve got them. Can you help me or not?”
Hoch grinned, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the table as he considered her words. “Magical wetlands. Rare plants. Unusual slimes. Yeah, I might have something that fits the bill. But like I said, it’s going to cost you.”
She frowned, her fingers tightening on the edge of her pack. She felt Orsafi's warmth against her hand through the fabric, the carbuncle staying perfectly still despite her usual energetic nature. At least one of them could keep their nerves steady, “And what’s the price?”
Hoch leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I’m not just giving you the Key, Deirdre. I’ll take you to the Domain. I’ll help you find what you need—plants, slimes, whatever it is you’re after. And in exchange, I get a cut of whatever you make from the deal. Let’s call it… an investment in your success.”
Deirdre’s stomach twisted. She didn’t like where this was going, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “And if I say no?”
Hoch spread his hands, the grin never leaving his face. “Then I wish you luck finding another Key before your deadline runs out. But let’s be honest, Deirdre. You wouldn’t be here if you had another option.”
The truth of his words stung, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she took a deep breath, weighing her choices. Hoch was trouble, that much was clear. But without the Key, she had nothing.
“Fine,” she said at last, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. “We’ll do it your way. But only because I don’t have time to waste.”
“Smart girl,” Hoch said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Meet me at the Hall of Doors in an hour. I’ll bring the Key, and we’ll get started.”
He stood abruptly, his cloak swirling around him as he moved toward the door. “Oh, and Deirdre,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t be late. I hate waiting.”
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He disappeared into the smoky haze, leaving her alone at the booth. Deirdre sighed, her stomach churning with unease. She had a bad feeling about this arrangement, but Hoch was right—she didn’t have another option.
“One hour,” she thought. “Enough time to get what I need and prepare for whatever I’m walking into.”
She stood, adjusting her pack, and made her way out of The Squatting Toad, the oppressive air following her like a shadow.
Deirdre stepped out of The Squatting Toad and into the open air of the Exchange. The heavy, damp atmosphere of the alley seemed to cling to her, and she shivered despite herself. The faint buzz of activity from the busier parts of the marketplace was a welcome contrast, even if it did little to ease the unease curling in her stomach. She had an hour—just enough time to gather the supplies she’d need for the trek ahead.
“Magical wetlands, rare slimes, enchanted plants,” she thought, mentally running through the tools and containers required. She tightened the straps of her pack and headed for the Outfitter.
Once she was clear of the alley, Deirdre ducked into a quiet alcove. “All clear, little one.”
Orsafi's head popped out of the pack, her crystal catching the light as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I know,” Deirdre said, scratching behind her companion's ears, “I didn't like it either.”
A few minutes later Deirdre pushed open the creaky door of the Outfitters, the faint chime of a bell announcing her arrival. Inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and faintly humming magic greeted her, instantly grounding her in a sense of routine.
“Deirdre!” Connor’s voice boomed from behind the counter. The elderly shopkeeper adjusted his red cap and leaned forward with a wide grin. "Back already? What's got you in such a hurry?"
The carbuncle chirped a greeting from Deirdre's shoulder, her fur shifting colors in the shop's warm light, “And hello to you too, little lady,” Connor chuckled
Deirdre approached the counter, her mind already on her list. "Got a wetlands job. Need gear for slime collection and some delicate plant work."
Connor raised a bushy eyebrow, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. “Wetlands, eh? That’s tricky business. You’ll need the right gear. And by ‘right,’ I mean the best I’ve got.”
“Exactly why I’m here,” Deirdre replied, stepping closer. She began listing what she needed, ticking items off in her head. “Containment jars—sealed and enchanted, for slimes. A few light traps for defensive creatures. Delicate harvesting tools for plants. Oh, and gloves—acid-resistant, just in case.”
Connor nodded, stroking his beard. “Aye, I’ve got most of that. Hang on.” He shuffled off into the back, the sound of clinking glass and rustling supplies echoing through the shop.
While she waited, Deirdre glanced around the shelves, each one packed with enchanted gear and trinkets from across the multiverse. A faint hum came from a set of glowing crystal lanterns in the corner, and a row of polished steel blades glinted under the shop’s warm lighting. Her gaze lingered briefly on a small, ornate dagger—a reminder that she wasn’t equipped for combat. “Hoch better hold up his end,” she thought grimly.
“Here we are,” Connor said, reappearing with an armful of supplies. He placed them on the counter, gesturing to each item. “Four reinforced jars, sealed for magical containment. Two enchanted traps—lightweight, but strong enough for smaller beasties. A fine set of tools for harvesting; they’re even charm-coated to keep fragile stuff intact. And these—” he held up a pair of thick gloves with a faint shimmer— “acid-resistant. They’ll save your hands if you get too close to one of those nasty oozes.”
Deirdre inspected the items, nodding her approval. “Perfect. What’s the damage?”
Connor scratched the back of his head, clearly reluctant. “You’re running light on funds, aren’t you, lass? This’ll be... fifty-eight, all told.”
Deirdre winced. That was nearly everything she had left. She hesitated, considering whether to barter for a better deal, but Connor caught her look and shook his head firmly. “Sorry, lass, but I can’t budge on this one. Aodh’ll have my backside if I let anything go for less.”
As if summoned, Aodh stepped into view from the stockroom, his sharp, calculating gaze fixing on her. The Noctari’s wings shifted slightly as he approached. “Connor’s right. Our inventory isn’t a charity, Deirdre. If you want it, you’ll have to pay full price.”
Deirdre sighed, rummaging through her pouch. As she counted out her remaining coins, her mind turned to her situation. She wasn’t going to survive the trip on optimism alone, and Connor deserved to know what she was up against.
“I’m working with Hoch,” she said, keeping her tone casual as she placed the coins on the counter.
Connor froze, his brows knitting together in concern. “Hoch? That slippery weasel? Lass, are you sure about this?”
Aodh’s feathers ruffled audibly, and his piercing gaze locked onto hers. "Hoch?" Aodh's feathers bristled. "Of all people, Deirdre—you know what he's like."
Deirdre straightened her back, meeting his gaze evenly. "Not like I have options. No Key, no contract. Simple as that."
Orsafi’s ears flattened against her head as she sensed Deirdre's unease, her crystal dimming slightly.
Aodh’s eyes narrowed further, his wings folding tightly against his back. “Simple doesn’t mean safe. Hoch is the kind of person who’ll sell you out if he thinks it’ll benefit him. You’re walking into this blind.”
Connor cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “Now, Aodh, I’m sure Deirdre knows what she’s doing—”
“Does she?” Aodh interrupted, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Or is she hoping for the best because she doesn’t have another option?”
Deirdre clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what I’m getting into. I’ll be careful.”
Aodh regarded her for a long moment before sighing and stepping back. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Connor chuckled awkwardly, sliding the supplies across the counter. “Take care of yourself out there, lass. And if Hoch starts getting slippery, you give him a good smack for me, aye?”
Deirdre snorted, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With her pack now heavier and her purse nearly empty, Deirdre stepped out into the bustling streets of The Exchange. The weight of her supplies was a tangible comfort, but the warnings from Aodh and Connor still lingered in her mind.
She adjusted her goggles, glanced at the spiraling towers of the Hall of Doors in the distance, and took a deep breath. “One step at a time,” she thought. “I’ll deal with whatever comes next when it happens.”
The Hall of Doors loomed before Deirdre, its spiraling walls adorned with endless doorways, each a gateway to a different Domain. The faint hum of magic filled the air, an ever-present reminder of the sheer power contained within this vast tower. The light from the crystal sconces along the walls bathed the space in a golden glow, casting long shadows on the polished stone floor.
Deirdre paused and crouched down, meeting Orsafi's concerned gaze. “Back in the pack, friend. Just until we're through the door.” The carbuncle touched her crystal briefly to Deirdre's forehead and chirped before reluctantly slipping into her hiding spot.
Deirdre stood and scanned the crowd, her eyes narrowing as she searched for Hoch. Collectors of all types bustled around her—some hauling heavy crates of supplies, others stepping through glowing portals with confident strides. The air was thick with anticipation and chatter, but Deirdre felt only the steady beat of her unease.
She spotted him near the base of the spiral walkway, leaning casually against a wall. Hoch’s cloak seemed even darker under the golden light, his hood pulled low over his scarred face. He wasn’t alone.
Next to him stood a thin, wiry man with sharp, angular features and restless eyes that darted around the room as if cataloging every movement. His bony fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, and his entire presence exuded a twitchy energy that set Deirdre’s nerves on edge.
Hoch noticed her approach and pushed off the wall, his grin reappearing as he spread his arms in mock welcome. “Right on time, Deirdre. I knew you’d show.” He gestured to the wiry man beside him. “This here is Needle. He works for me.”
Deirdre’s eyes flicked to Needle, who offered a small, sharp-toothed smile but said nothing. “And why exactly is he here?” she asked, her tone measured.
Hoch’s grin widened, as if he relished her suspicion. “Relax. Needle’s just here to help out—extra hands, you know? Heavy lifting, keeping an eye on things. Don’t worry about paying him; I’ve got that covered. He’s part of my cut.”
Deirdre’s stomach twisted. Everything about Needle—from his nervous fidgeting to the predatory glint in his eyes—screamed trouble. She crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “You didn’t mention bringing someone else.”
“And I didn’t think it’d be a problem,” Hoch replied smoothly. “Needle’s good at what he does, and you’ll see—he’ll make this whole thing easier. Trust me.”
The words hung in the air, taunting her. Trust me. Coming from Hoch, they sounded more like a threat than reassurance. But what choice did she have? If she walked away now, she’d lose her only chance at the Domain Key.
Deirdre exhaled sharply and forced herself to nod. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, it’s on you.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hoch said, his grin never faltering.
With a flourish, Hoch pulled a Key from his cloak. It was a twisted piece of metal, blackened and gnarled like a tree root, with faint green runes glowing along its surface. Deirdre’s unease deepened as she studied it—it looked ancient, as if it had been pulled from the heart of a dying forest.
Hoch held up the Key, its runes casting sickly shadows. "Witchlight Fens. Nasty place. But it's got what you need."
Deirdre’s lips pressed into a thin line. Witchlight Fens. Even the name sounded foreboding. She adjusted her pack again, her fingers brushing against the acid-resistant gloves she’d tucked inside. "Let's move," she said.
"That's the spirit, sweetheart." Hoch quipped, stepping toward a wooden door set into the spiraling wall. The door was as twisted as the Key he held, its surface carved with writhing vines and symbols that pulsed faintly with green light.
Needle reached the door first, his thin fingers tracing the carvings with a mix of curiosity and reverence. “Beautiful craftsmanship,” he muttered, his voice raspy and low.
Hoch inserted the Key into the lock, the runes on the door flaring to life as the mechanism clicked. He glanced over his shoulder at Deirdre, his grin sharp as a blade. “Ready, sweetheart?”
Deirdre didn’t bother to answer. She stepped forward, bracing herself as the door swung open to reveal the Witchlight Fens.
The air that wafted through was heavy with moisture, carrying the sharp tang of swamp water and the faint glow of bio luminescent plants. Tendrils of mist snaked out, curling around their feet like curious fingers. Beyond the threshold lay a landscape of murky pools, gnarled trees, and glowing fungi that cast an eerie light over the darkened terrain. Strange croaks and rustling noises echoed in the distance, the sounds of creatures hidden just out of sight.
Needle stepped through first, his movements light and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Hoch followed, turning back briefly to gesture for Deirdre to hurry up.
She hesitated for just a moment, the oppressive atmosphere of the Domain pressing against her like a physical weight. Then she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped through the door.
The world shifted as the magic of the Domain closed around her, the twisted door creaking shut behind them. The Hall of Doors—and any chance of retreat—was gone.